


A fatal phone call

by Selena_Guardi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Suicidal Themes, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena_Guardi/pseuds/Selena_Guardi
Summary: After seeing the new Sherlock trailer for season four I couldn't help but come up with reasons why Molly lookes so utterly destroyed during that phone call. My mind kept coming up with headcanons and ideas of who might be talking to her and what he was saying. Long story short I wrote this entire fic in snippets in a facebook chat on the tube, walking down the street and on the bus. About 12 hours after I came up with the initial idea I managed this little ficlet, writing on my phone whenever I wasn't busy doing something else.Just like the trailer this story is full of angst and sadness and pain. You have been warned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing the new Sherlock trailer for season four I couldn't help but come up with reasons why Molly lookes so utterly destroyed during that phone call. My mind kept coming up with headcanons and ideas of who might be talking to her and what he was saying. Long story short I wrote this entire fic in snippets in a facebook chat on the tube, walking down the street and on the bus. About 12 hours after I came up with the initial idea I managed this little ficlet, writing on my phone whenever I wasn't busy doing something else.  
> Just like the trailer this story is full of angst and sadness and pain. You have been warned.

"I love you."  
A second, two. Then he fired.  
There was a long silence after the gunshot. The only sound the thump of the third brother's lifeless body hitting the ground.

It was over. Finally over.

Sherlock took a few deep breathes, coming to terms with what he had just done. A silent tear rolled down his cheek. Turning around slowly he went to face John and Mycroft. The one's face showing a mixture of shock and slight relieve, the other's a stone cold mask as always.  
Taking two big steps he approached John.

"You are my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without. Thank you, John."

And with that he grabbed John and held him in the biggest hug imaginable. Still trying to grasp what had just happened John was taken by surprise mumbling some words of agreement into Sherlock's shoulder. Letting go of John Sherlock turned to Mycroft who anticipating Sherlock's intentions took an instinctive step back.

"No thank you." he added quickly, shuddering at the thought of such a display of affection.

"Tell Mary I love her. And little Rosamund."

"Okay?" John said raising one eye brow.

This new version of Sherlock was slightly upsetting. It was as if somebody had pulled a plug and all the so carefully stowed away emotions just kept spilling out. John didn't know if he could adapt to this new feelsy Sherlock.

"Excuse me." Sherlock said straightening his suit jacket and walking towards the door.

"Where are you going? You can't just leave!"

Turning back Sherlock looked at John, then at Mycroft.

"I assume you will take care of this, brother?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Sherlock! OK NO! Sorry, but am I the only one who is realising what just happened? You just shot your brother."

"Correct." Sherlock nodded. "To save all of us." He added after a pause.

"Yeah okay, right." John said still looking confused. "But..."

"But?" Sherlock repeated waiting for John to get to the point.

As John didn't quite know what to say Sherlock tilted his head and took a closer look at his best friend.

"You fear that I will harm myself. You think I am running away from this and try to find the closest drug den and shoot up.”

Embarrassed John looked at his hands instead of facing Sherlock's gaze.

"No need to be ashamed of such assumptions, John. I have a certain track record in the end. But I can assure you I have no such intentions. There is simply something I... have to take care of."

And with that Sherlock turned and was out the door. Helplessly John turned to Mycroft for an explanation but was only met by a shrug.

"Maybe you should call your wife" Mycroft suggested.

Left alone Mycroft took out his phone, taking a moment before he made the necessary calls. But for once his face wasn't l the unreadable mask he wore so often but it was replaced by a little knowing smile that was playing around his lips. A smile that faded all too quickly when he turned around to regard the body on the floor that once had been his brother. While Mycroft was busy cleaning up the messy situation they had found themselves in Sherlock was already halfway across London speeding through streets and alleys on a motorbike he had - for lack of a better word - borrowed. But his thoughts were racing even faster than the Suzuki that was carrying him to his all too far away destination.

He had to get there. As quickly as he could.

Not just because his new found need to speak his feelings urged him onwards but also because she wasn't answering her phone. He couldn't blame her. Who would answer their phone seeing his number on the screen after what he had done only hours before...  
All his life people had accused him of being heartless and cruel. Hurting others' feelings and alienating everyone around him. But it never had been intentional. He simply didn't know better and with John coming into his life he believed to have improved greatly. But this had been different. He hadn't dismissed her or simply ignored her like he had done so many times without even noticing. This time all he hurt he had caused had been intentional. With everyone and everything on the line he had had no choice but to give into his evil brother's demands and break her.  
And oh it had been too easy. Telling her everything she had feared for so long. He felt sick only thinking about it.

* * *

"Molly no, I'm not calling to ask for help. Why would I ask _you_ for help?"  
"I don't know, Sherlock, I just-"  
"Because you always come running after me like a well trained dog when I ask you to?"  
"Sherlock? Why are you so-"  
"I'm just telling the truth."  
"But... I thought we were friends."  
"Don't make me laugh.” he returned adding a hollow mocking laugh. “Even for your standards that's ridiculous. Why would I be friends with you? There is nothing you can offer me. I admit you are useful sometimes, but you must agree your pining for me has become embarrassing. Oops, I said it. Yes, I know about that. Come on, Molly, you're not that stupid. I mean your intellect is quite inferior to mine but you must know that I am the great Sherlock Holmes, I can deduce everyone and everything. You think something as plain and obvious as your infatuation would be an exception? Everyone knows about that. Even John noticed it. And you know, they all laugh behind your back. Poor little timid Molly, Sherlock has her wrapped around his little finger. It's pathetic."  
"Sherlock stop. Why are you saying these things?" she was crying heavily at the other end of the line. "This is not like you!" She insisted, clinging on to the last bit of hope she had.  
And Sherlock who himself was fighting back tears knew that he would have to take that little bit of hope away as well if we was to appease his brother.  
"See, Molly, that's where you're wrong. I am exactly like this. You always think me nobler or better than I am, but that is just you wishing and hoping and honestly it's just pathetic. Did you think you could 'make me become a better man'. Wake up, you are nothing special! Why would you be able to change me? And this little game of ours it's been fun, really. You know, where I pretend to be nice and in exchange you do whatever I ask you to. But it's becoming a strain, it's draining me and I can't stand to see your expectant face anymore. It's not worth it. You're not worth it."

And then he had hung up.

* * *

The words echoed inside his head now as the lights of London zoomed past him. Those hateful, hateful words. "You're not worth it." The memory made him shudder.  
Stopping at what seemed to be a forever ongoing red phase he tapped his fingers impatiently on the handle. As yet another lane got a green light before him he cursed and fumbled for his phone inside his coat. He had to try and call her again. But when he finally got it out a missed called he had ignored earlier grabbed his attention. What if Molly had tried calling him, her number suppressed and it was actually her message on his voicemail. Seeing as he had nothing to lose and hoping that it might have been her yelling at him for all the awfulness he dialled. His first thought was that someone had dialled his number by mistake as there seemed to be only silence down the line. But then he heard a slight sniffle that made him listen up again.  
 _"Sherlock." A pause, she still seemed to be crying. "I just..." Her voice sounded wrong, slightly slurred. "I just want you to know that... I forgive you."_  
The blood in his veins seemed to freeze up as he heard the phone fall to the ground followed by an eerie silence that was only cut off by the limits of his inbox. Not caring if the traffic light was red, green or purple for that matter, Sherlock stuffed his phone back into his coat pocket and drove on with full speed only one thought in his mind. _'Don't let me be too late'._  
Driving up to Molly's apartment block he jumped off the bike, not caring that it was sliding across the street in the rain. He ran up to the front door pressing every bell he could reach until someone buzzed him in. Basically flying up the stairs he took three steps at a time until he came to her door. He considered hammering against it for a split second and shouting her name but as she wasn't answering her phone anymore he guessed she was already way past that point. Putting his full weight against the door he ran into it, once, twice, three times. There was a shooting pain in his shoulder but it barely reached him. It seemed a minor inconvenience compared to what was going on in his mind right now. Pushing it one more time the door finally gave way and he rushed down the corridor Into the kitchen.

There she was. On the floor. Her small body seemed to have crumbled in on itself. Lifeless, pale. There was an empty vodka bottle on the table and a wild mixture of tablets strewn around the kitchen. An empty bottle of sleeping pills loosely lying in her limp hand.

"MOLLY!" He screamed lifting her head off the floor.

Hitting her in the face he shouted at her, shaking her., trying his best to get her back from wherever she had gone. Her heart was still beating weakly but her breathe was too faint and shallow. Scooping her up in his arms he carried her into the bathroom still calling her name and pleading for her to wake up. Putting her down softly on the floor next to the shower he called 911 on speaker phone. Rummaging through her bathroom cupboard for anything he could use as an adrenaline substitute he shouted instructions to the emergency line.

"Attempted suicide. Overdose of zopiclone, diazepam and tramadole mixed with alcohol. I need an ambulance right now. She's unconscious and I don't know how long she's been this way."

Abandoning his search he knelt down beside Molly again as the lady confirmed that there was help on the way.

"Molly, stay with me! I need you, please " he screamed at her, slapping her across the face.

"Molly I can't lose you. You are all I have." Another slap.

"Molly I love you. Please." Another slap.

A flicker of her eyelids made him stop. 

"Molly, Molly, listen to my voice. Don't you dare drift off again."

Grabbing the shower head he turned the water as cold as possible and let it run over her head.

"Molly you have to stay awake."

"Sherlock?" Her speech was barely audible and she didn't seem to know where she was.

"I'm here. I won't let you go."

Propping her up with his own body he managed to get her into a halfway upright position. His coat was drenched by now and he was shivering terribly while a pool of water was forming on the bathroom floor. But none of that mattered, as long as he could keep her awake.

"Ok Molly, listen we need to get this stuff out of you. This won't be pleasant. And I'm sorry but I'm not letting you die."

Helping her to kneel in front of the shower he wrapped his arms around her ribcage pushing his fist into her stomach a few times. Thankfully it didn't take much until molly started retching her body instinctively doing the right thing; fighting the poison inside her and forcing it back up.

Still holding on to her, Sherlock brushed the wet strands of hair out of her face as Molly threw up a mixture of colourful pills, alcohol and bile. When she seemed to calm he turned her back around, steadying her in his arms and making sure she wasn't drifting back into unconsciousness. Holding her tight he spoke to her continuously, the water still running over them. He knew she probably wouldn't be able to remember any of it but he simply told her everything. What he had thought when they had first met. How much her help in faking his death had meant to him. How her engagement to Tom had made him feel.

He just kept talking.

Until the ambulance arrived. When they lifted Molly onto the stretcher and assured him that she would make it thanks to his quick reaction and excellent work Sherlock seemed to breathe for the first time. Holding on to her hand he sat beside her in the ambulance reassuring her that he was still there whenever she seemed to come back to them.

Despite the rules of the hospital and the fights he got into with the staff who all too quickly gave up on trying to make him do anything he didn't want to, Sherlock stayed by her side the whole time. He had nearly lost her once before and he wasn't prepared to let her go any time soon. So he watched her, held her hand, kept talking to her, reassured her that he was there and he waited.  
He waited for her to regain her strength, for the old Molly he knew so well to return. For the colour to creep back into her cheeks, the timid smile that had helped him through so much spread again on her sweet face. With her body having gone through the turmoil of the last hours, it was only natural for her to drift back off to sleep once she was settled in a warm hospital bed. Thankfully the monitors gave Sherlock a sense of security as they beeped on alongside her heartbeat. She was hooked up to a drop, filling her veins with healing energy, strength she needed for her body to return to normal. He hadn't called John, or Mycroft, nobody knew yet what had passed this late evening and he wasn't entirely sure if anybody ever would. Maybe he would give her the choice. 

As Molly came by hours later, he was still sitting by her bed, her small hand held tightly in his, his head lowered, staring at his shoes.

“Sherlock?”

“Molly!”

His head shooting up he looked at her a soft expression of relieve on his face.

“You're awake.”

Edging his chair closer to her he leaned forward.

“Where am I?” she asked looking around her in terror.

“In hospital” he said, “everything will be okay.”

“How did I get ...” she started her question stopping short as the memory of everything came back to her.

A heavy silence hung in the room.

“I am sorry.” Sherlock whispered.

Molly couldn't look at him. She hadn't intended to be found by anyone, especially not him. Then she recalled the stupid message she had left on his phone and she hated herself for it. She hated herself so much. She knew what this must look like, a desperate cry for him, attention seeking. God, she actually was pathetic. As if he was reading her mind Sherlock squeezed her hand slightly.

“Molly, I-” he started but she cut in.

“I didn't mean to be found.” she said still unable to face him. “This isn't me trying to blackmail you into … anything.”

“Molly, listen.”

“No” she continued quickly, tears welling up in her eyes, “you don't have to feel obliged to be here. I know you hate it.”

“No, Molly, that is not true” he said grabbing her face with his hands gently turning her towards him, “look at me, please. I need you to know that none of the things I said to you on the phone are true. Not one word.”

“You don't have to pretend.” she sobbed.

“I am not pretending. Actually, I am done pretending. I pretended so long to not care, you don't know. I was made to say these horrible things to you, my evil brother forced me. I had to do it to trick him into trusting me. And I know now that I should never have done it, I broke your heart and I am so sorry. I am so terribly sorry. I made you think that you are not important. But you are. You are so important.”

Letting go of her face he looked at her for a moment.

“But you were right. I am pathetic.” Molly said wiping the tears off her face with the back of her hand.

“You are not to me. You, Molly Hooper, are my rock. You have always been and I know I have been an idiot and I have been cruel to you before today but I... I actually need you more than you think. I have been foolish enough in the past to think I could suppress my feelings and that it would make me stronger. But I see now that I have been wrong. I thought I was protecting you from a life that would be shaped by threats and dangers. But by pushing you away I hurt you more than my enemies could ever manage. I was afraid that if I would let you into my life I was bound to lose you. In a way, I guess, I was just protecting myself all along.” shaking his head slightly he looked at his hands before he continued. “I am a terrible human being, I am selfish, cold and cruel at my worst and lets be honest I am not very kind or friendly even at my best. But you always saw more in me. You saw the person I could be and you believed in me. And although I still believe that I can't offer you much but I want to try and be that better person.... for you. If I learned one thing tonight it's that I never want to feel like I am losing you, ever again. Because... Molly... I think... I love you... and I have been in love with you for a very long time now but I never wanted to admit it to myself and I... I am sorry.”

Looking back up at her he held his breathe waiting for a response. But Molly was too stunned for words, confusion and shock clearly written on her face. When she finally understood what he had just told her she push herself off the bed leaning sitting up.

“No no, you're still very weak, Molly, you shouldn't try to get up.” Sherlock insisted putting his hands gently on her shoulders.

“Oh don't you dare trying to tell me what to do.” Molly replied smiling slightly.

“But I-” Sherlock started to protest.

“Just shut up.” Molly interrupted him as she took hold of his jacket pulling him towards her until his lips collided with hers.

Surprised Sherlock first didn't know what to do but it didn't take him too long to respond eagerly wrapping his arms around her. When they finally separated again they both smiled at each other Sherlock still holding Molly.

“I don't deserve you, you know?” he whispered as he planted another quick kiss on her lips.

“Yup, you don't.” she replied grinning up at him running one hand through his hair.


End file.
